Tony Keeton's Words And Things

Tony Keeton lives in Derbyshire and writes the occasional poem. An occasional poem is a bit like an occasional table, but with no legs and no top and no screws holding it together, and made of words instead of wood. His landlord does not allow animals in the flat, and therefore Tony has instead opted to keep a small pet waste-paper basket called Kenneth, whose voracious appetite he feeds with scraps of ideas, and who usually ends up being the sole audience for many of Tony’s more unusual poetry. Despite all this, Tony has somehow managed to win minor awards for his work, and has read his poems at Cabaret in Nottingham, The Chesterfield Market Festival, and the Y-Not Music Festival.

Tony shies away from personal introductions, and would prefer you to imagine this site, not as about him, but more as  a little log cabin for some of his poems, many of whom are infinitely more sociable than he is, anyway, and would gladly welcome visitors with open arms. However, in case you are still intrigued, the following may enlighten you a little as to what sort of creature you’re dealing with:

Tony Keeton likes:

• When taxi-drivers pretend they know where they’re going, and the excuses they make when you point out that they’re heading in the wrong direction.
• The echoing of voices in the great halls of railway stations.
• Saltburn (It’s a place, not a medical condition…)
• The smell of damp pollen.
• Tubeway travelogues
• Finding a Kitkat finger that’s ALL chocolate.
• Cardboard Boxes
• Popping the foil seal in new coffee jars.
• Interesting hats.
• chipstick and cheeseyball tennis
• Kites
• Contemporary popular music rescored for ukulele.
• The silent chord of a moment.
• Coldfrost Cloudlit Festival Nights.
• That friendly Scottish bloke from the 1960 film of The Time Machine.
• Full English Vegetarian Breakfasts.
• The smell of hot vinegar vapours on seaside chips.
• Buffalo Cheese.
• Travel writing.
• The unintentional bad taste of London souvenir teddy bears in little bearskin hats…
• Playing with those little umbrellas you get in cocktails and pretending to be a Giant.
• Riding a bicycle.
• Daisies.
• Multicoloured pigeons and the laughter of ducks.
• Tents.
• “Graceland” by Paul Simon.
• Powdery snow that squeaks underfoot.
• Bands with the word “Club” in their names.
• Dancing idiotically.
• Sky-blue pink.
• Council-run firework displays.
• Frederico The Famous Fluffy Pigeon-Assassin.
• Tree-shadows at dusk.
• Dreadful puns.
• Poetry.
• Wondering.
• Possibility.
• You.

To dispel any ambiguity for those who arrived here via a search engine, Tony is NOT:

• On the CIA’s Top Ten Most-Wanted list.
  (UPDATE – Apparently, that particular Mr. Keeton’s been caught and imprisoned, now…)
• A Fundamentalist Baptist.
• A breeder of purebred Ewes.
• Anything to do with Golf…
• A top executive.
• The author of an online guide on “How to please your woman” (Sorry to disappoint you, ladies…)
• Called “Big Red”…by anybody! (Particularly with reference to the above…)
• A defensive linesman who slung Henry Hunter for a 12-yard loss…